


Long Away

by HgMercury39



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Fantasy AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:21:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HgMercury39/pseuds/HgMercury39
Summary: When Farrokh, king of Rhye, is betrayed and usurped by his treacherous adviser, he sets out to retake his kingdom with the help of some unlikely allies.
Relationships: John Deacon & Brian May & Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	1. Shamed The King In All His Pride

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, it's Mercury! This story is in progress, so try and be patient for the next chapter as I'm a slow writer. If you have feedback or comments, please leave them so I can see that people are reading and engaging with this.
> 
> Enjoying the story? Come talk about it, my other works, and Queen in general at https://discord.gg/Vc7Bt7X!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably my strongest beginning so far, fantasy comes to me more naturally than sci-fi or thriller. Sadly only Freddie’s appeared so far.

This tale begins in the kingdom of Rhye, five years into the reign of King Farrokh The Regal. Farrokh had come to the throne young, but already promised to show wisdom, kindness, and charm in his rule. Unfortunately, his was not the only influence on the kingdom's fate. Since his childhood, a nobleman by the name of Paul had grown close to the king, becoming his most trusted advisor and friend. And while he seemed devoted to Farrokh and his kingdom, he truly served no one but himself - and all he ever did was for the sake of his own power and rank.

The advice he gave the young, perhaps too trusting, king seemed well-intentioned, but his plans had been laid deeply from the start. Trickery in every kind word, lies behind every affirmation of loyalty, slowly bringing together the perfect climate for his opportunity to come. And now, the moment was finally on the horizon. A day that would change Rhye forever, and leave none to oppose him.

* * *

The morning began like any other, with the pleasant warmth of late spring and the bustle of people in the villages going out to farm, hunt, or open their shops and places of business. In the palace, Farrokh and his sister the Princess Kashmira were preparing for the day's business and waiting for breakfast to be prepared. There was unrest in the Jansi province, and a delegation had been sent to express their grievances; receiving and pacifying it would probably take most of the afternoon.

The palace was rarely quiet, but a particular sense of activity, almost preparation, seemed prevalent that day. It would almost have seemed suspicious if Farrokh hadn't completely trusted his councillors and servants. Paul was ready with the day's agenda, in his typical attitude of humble servility. Farrokh finally finished dressing - his flair for the dramatic blended perfectly with the impression a ruler was supposed to make, and he quite enjoyed looking fancy - and entered the throne room in full regal attire from the delicate touches of black eyeliner that accented his warm, kind brown eyes to the immaculately arranged black hair flowing over his shoulders and even the ornate silver rings adorning both hands.

"The delegates are here, Your Majesty."

Farrokh acknowledged the announcement with a nod. "Show them in, Reid. We will hear their petition."

The delegation's leader was a man of about forty years and unremarkable appearance, one who seemed not so much a leader as someone chosen because he had to be. He approached the king hesitantly, but with an appearance of determination. Farrokh waved him forwards.

"What did you wish to ask from us?"

The delegate stood in uncertainty for a few moments before speaking. His voice was unsteady, but the emotions in it were strong.

"Your Majesty, the recent tax raise is more than our province can handle. We are simple folk, and cannot spare such a large percentage of our earnings. We humbly ask that you consider reducing the burden."

Farrokh thought. The tax raise had been Paul's suggestion, although Rhye hardly needed the money and resources. His compassionate instincts told him to consent, but he never acted without consulting his closest advisor.

"We will consider this," he said in as neutral a tone as he could manage. "Meanwhile, you will be well entertained in the palace's guest chambers."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." The delegation left, and Farrokh turned to Paul.

"What do you say, should I grant the request? It's true that Rhye doesn't need to take so much from them, and it would get us the goodwill of the people. Unless you have anything to say against it-"

Paul did.

"I'm sure you mean well, Farrokh. But you have to consider the bigger picture here. True, we don't _need_ the province's taxes. However, there's no telling when we may have a drought, or a harsh winter. and be grateful for the extra supplies."

"The people need those supplies as much as we do," Farrokh countered. "More, in fact, since the palace is already full of luxuries and we can stand a few weeks of poverty better than they. Surely the wise choice would be to give them a slightly easier life at no cost to ourselves?"

"Perhaps, but you're setting a dangerous precedent. If the people see their every request granted, they'll think that you can be swayed by anything. You'll lose authority, and that's very hard to get back. Once you've shown yourself as easy to persuade and quick to agree, refusing anything could make the people turn against you."

"I don't want to be a tyrant, Paul," Farrokh protested. "That could make them turn against me just as easily, and besides kindness is always the better option."

"What seems cruel to the peasant may be a great kindness on the larger scales. It's easier to change a tyrannous reputation than a pleasant one."

Farrokh sighed. He was finding it difficult to make a sound reply, but his instinct was still strongly for lowering the taxes.

"All right, for now. Maybe I'll agree another time, but you've persuaded me."

He turned to the waiting Reid. "Tell the delegation I've decided. And bring them in."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Within a few moments, the representatives were once more in the throne room, anxiously awaiting their king's words. Those were not long in coming.

"We have thoroughly considered your request, and come to a decision. Regretfully, lowering your province's taxes is not now in the best interests of this kingdom. You may return to your homes."

The leader seemed about to protest, but thought better of it. The delegation left once more, and the king had a lingering feeling that, despite best efforts and good counsel, he had yet again done the wrong thing. Still, changing his mind now would doubtless make him seem weak and unstable. There was nothing to be done. He turned to the day's next topic of concern.

* * *

By nightfall, Farrokh was troubled with a growing unease. It annoyed him, but there seemed no discernible cause. He retired to his chambers, unable to sleep. This was probably a good thing, for if he had slept he might never have heard the assassin.

The door opened almost silently, but he was trained for alertness and almost before the stranger entered his hand had closed on the dagger kept by the bed. The struggle was frenzied, but short, and he quickly disarmed the intruder and called in guards.

"Question him. I don't take kindly to people trying to stab me in the middle of the night, and I want to know how he got in."

To the King's surprise, the guards drew their weapons as well.

"You no longer give the orders, Farrokh." One of them spoke firmly.

"Oh, I see." Farrokh's annoyance rose. "You've chosen the wrong king to rebel against."

He ran for the door, reaching the throne room before the larger and heavily armoured guards could stop him. Even at night, there was activity there - various courtiers, guards, and servants talking and preparing for the next day. He found the captain of the guard.

"There's rebellion afoot. I want those responsible found and interrogated, someone just tried to kill me."

Farrokh was surprised yet again when the captain made no move to do so. Instead, he and many other soldiers drew their weapons on their king. By now, Farrokh was angry.

"It's more than simple rebellion, then. Who's behind this? Kashmira would never betray me."

"And indeed, she has not." The final surprise in a long list, Paul himself stepped forwards with a confident smile.

"You-" Farrokh struggled for words. "Why you? You wanted me to succeed, you advised me for years..."

"And did you never question that advice? I wasn't giving it out of the goodness of my heart. Oh, it seemed reasonable. It seemed helpful. But slowly, the people were coming to think of you as a tyrant. Small annoyances, like your refusal to lower the taxes today, building up until they were easily swayed to rebellion. A king needs to think for himself, and I doubt there'll be many to oppose me. As for the Princess, I've dealt with her already."

"No, you haven't." Kashmira burst into the room, the signs of recent combat unmistakable on her hastily grabbed sword. "Luckily, I did learn how to defend myself. This treachery-"

"Has made me king. You can hardly escape with all your court against you, and if you want to live you'll surrender now."

"Not all." Reid stepped forwards, sword tightly in hand. "The King is not to blame for taking bad advice, but you are unquestionably to blame for giving it. If Paul becomes king, courtiers, who says he won't follow the pattern he laid down? All who are loyal to the King, stand by him now!"  
A few men went to Reid's side, but far from enough to hold their own. There was one route still available, but it was a desperate one.

"Run!" Reid shouted. "We'll cover you!"

Farrokh wanted to argue - there was little chance of the defenders surviving - but he could see no better option. As battle flared up behind them, the king and princess of Rhye fled their castle into an uncertain future.


	2. There's A Road Ahead And There's No Way Back Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And meet one of the cutest versions of John possible! I hope!

By dawn, they had reached the woods outside the capital and seemingly lost their pursuers. They stopped in the shade of a tall elm to rest and discuss the future.

"We don't have any supplies," Kashmira said. "We'll have to fall in with someone loyal soon, or we're done for no matter how long we can evade Paul's forces."

Farrokh agreed. "But who? We have no way of knowing who to trust, and many of those who would help us will be too afraid. I don't want to cause trouble for anyone on my account, even if it means I never see the throne again."

"So you want to give up? After all you did to escape? People gave their lives to buy us a chance at escaping because they believed in your leadership. Rhye needs you, not Paul. If you step away from the crown now, the entire kingdom will pay for it eventually."

"Will it?" Farrokh asked. "Paul's more intelligent than me. The fact that I ruled badly under his advice... Well, we know by now that was a ploy. He may not be a good person, but how do we know he won't be a better king?"

"Farrokh..." Kashmira sighed. "The better person is usually the better leader as well. And your rule, when you made your own decisions, was everything a ruler should strive to have. Please, for your sake and for your kingdom's sake, don't let everything you've hoped for be destroyed by a usurper."

Farrokh wanted to answer, but could think of no reply. Rhye was lost because of his misjudgement, so how could he possibly be a good choice to save it? However, it was obvious that Kashmira would not accept that answer. He turned his thoughts to other matters.  
"If we do intend to retake the kingdom, it'll have to be by subterfuge. There can't possibly be enough loyalists to stand up against Paul's men, and even if there were it would entail enormous loss of life. If we can fight from the inside..."

"Stir up dissent among the people, learn who's on our side and who to stay away from. Try and convince others that you're the rightful king. But one mistake or betrayal could get us and everyone on our side killed."

"And that's why I'm reluctant to risk it," Farrokh said. "Unless we can come up with a good plan. Any ideas? I'm hardly inclined to trust my own judgement right now."

"Well..." Kashmira began. "For one thing, Farrokh is a king's name. You'll have to go by some alias if you want any chance of safety. Something common, unremarkable."

"Good point. I hadn't even thought of that. Something unremarkable... Can't be too different though, because not getting used to it easily would be just as dangerous. Maybe a similar sound, same number of syllables..." He trailed off for some time, lost in thought. "How about... Freddie?"

"Freddie?" Kashmira looked interested. "Why?"

"Call it intuition. I like the sound, it's common among the peasants and townsfolk, and it shouldn't be too difficult to remember. Unless you think there's a problem I haven't spotted?"

"No, no. It's just fine - actually, I rather like it. From now until Rhye is retaken, you're Freddie. Not Farrokh. Hopefully neither of us will forget that."

"Hopefully. So what now?"

Kashmira looked around, but there was hardly that much difference in the forest scenery.  
"We should try and move away from the capital area, somewhere people are less likely to recognise us and we can stop at an inn for the night. Now if only I knew what direction that might be..."

Farrokh laughed in spite of himself. "Funny how I never realised just how large this forest is. I've been on hunting parties, of course, but that hardly compares to being alone and quiet with trees everywhere and no trace of the outside world. Pick a direction and start walking, I suppose? Hoping it doesn't lead us back the way we came?"

"That sounds as good advice as any," Kashmira agreed, and they started out.

* * *

Many hours later, both were feeling the effects of weariness and fatigue from the long journey with no food, no drink, and little rest. Still the edge of the forest was not in sight, unlike the edge of their endurance.

"I'd say we camp here," the newly-termed Freddie announced at last, "but it won't leave us any better off than just pressing on until we find the way or collapse. There are wild animals here, and although they'll probably leave humans alone unless we harm them I don't know if we should take that risk. Besides, there may still be patrols out looking for us, and they definitely will. If we're asleep when they come it'll obviously be a lot harder to fight back."

"We're hardly in the best condition to fight as it is, should things come to that." Kashmira ruefully surveyed their dirty clothing and dishevelled appearances. "I think you're right, though. We'd do best to continue-"

She broke off; the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps was coming from somewhere nearby. Freddie drew his dagger in readiness and tried to locate the source, but too late. A group of four soldiers approached them through the trees. The leader, a tall, unfamiliar man, stepped forwards with drawn sword.

"The King demands that you surrender to his mercy or die for your ungratefulness in refusing."

Freddie tried to seem confident, but the situation hardly made it easy. Beside him, Kashmira had drawn her own sword.

"I am the King, and I never gave such an order. You must be deceived in your loyalties."

The soldier laughed. "You have bravado. But it will not protect you. Two, tired and weak, against four trained warriors? It is your life you throw away."

"I think not. You can tell your so-called King that I know he has no intention of letting me live whether or not I surrender to his 'mercy'. As long as I live, I'm a threat to him and he knows it. Now, will you leave us alone, or do I have to show you how greatly you underestimate us in battle?"

The last part was a bluff, and one he little expected to succeed; but desperate measures are better than none. He was hardly surprised, however, when it failed.

The soldiers moved in to attack almost too quickly for them to respond, but Kashmira managed to parry their first blow. Freddie dodged and weaved between the attackers, trying to find an opening for his dagger. While both had had combat training, the situation was different against real enemies with no one to protect them and no pauses when they tired. The battle became a whirlwind, with neither able to keep track of anything but the swords moving around them and their own motions in response. Freddie was vaguely aware that one of their enemies had fallen, but could not have said to whose blade. Kashmira took down a second, but then their moment of luck passed. Her victory left her uncertain of her next move, and her other opponent wasted no time in taking advantage. 

The mists of battle cleared suddenly, and Freddie found himself powerless to move as his sister fell to the ground, raising her sword in a desperate attempt at defending herself. He knew even before he started running that he would be too late to prevent the final blow.

Luckily, it was not up to him to do so. Before the cry of horror could leave his mouth, an arrow from somewhere unseen brought down the attacker. Another, moments later, felled the last soldier. Freddie ran to Kashmira, examining her wounds and looking about him for their saviour. He had not long to wait, as someone was already riding towards them and dismounting from a small pony.

The newcomer had the features and proportions of an adult man, but was only as tall as a child - a halfling, Freddie remembered. Non-humans were uncommon in Rhye, but there were many in the rural areas. He was dressed in simple forest clothing that brought out the greenish-grey of his eyes and his long, slightly reddish-brown hair, and a bow that would have been short for a human was clutched in his right hand. His expression was surprisingly innocent for someone who had shot two men moments earlier, looking at them almost shyly.

"Um..." Freddie felt that something should be said. "Thanks. For saving us."

The halfling smiled nervously. "I'd have done the same for anyone. You're lucky I happened to be here, actually - I don't usually hunt this far into the woods, but the winter's been hard and I have a family back home with little preserved food left in stock." He looked at Kashmira in concern. "She needs medical attention. I can escort you to the nearest village, they have a good healer."

"I hardly think that would be a good idea," Kashmira tried to protest, but for once Freddie was willing to take the risk. He lifted her onto the pony, and they started out.

* * *

"I know I've already thanked you," Freddie ventured some time later, "but you saved my sister's life back there. Probably mine as well. I can't find enough words to express-"

"It's all right." Their guide seemed embarrassed by the attention. "It shouldn't be far to the village now."

They had tried to treat Kashmira's injuries as best they could, but even she could no longer deny that the situation was serious. She turned to her saviour.

"I'm sorry. I still haven't thanked you, have I? You saved my life, um-"

"My name's John." The stranger smiled again. "John of Deac, if you ever need to distinguish me from the many other Johns in the world. And you..."

Freddie was on the verge of answering, but remembered that he was no longer going by his own name, and before his confusion passed John had continued.

"Your clothes... Your accent... Your manner... It's true, isn't it? There was a rebellion, and you're on the run. Farrokh, our king... and the princess. The usurper's trying to get rid of you, so he sends out assassins... I'm very glad I helped you. I don't know much about this man, but I feel certain he should never be a king."

"If you've figured out all that," Farrokh said hesitantly, "you must have figured out that you're endangering yourself by helping us. This time there were no survivors to inform on you, but you can't expect that luck to hold out forever. Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful that you saved us, but it might be better if we parted ways as soon as possible."

"And leave you to fate and the usurper's 'mercy'? That's hardly the right way to treat a king. Look, why don't I take you to the village and we'll decide after you've rested and recovered? I know how to protect myself should the worst prove true."

John hardly looked the warrior type, but Freddie had to admit that he appeared to be braver and more capable than he looked. Even so, he had mentioned a family at home... Freddie had a nagging suspicion that his former advisor was a much more dangerous and ruthless man than he had thought. However, for the present he could not disagree with the plan; they did need a healer, and soon.

As they continued towards the village, he explained the full situation and their plan.


	3. Do You Know How It Feels When You Don't Have A Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cast is complete!

It was near dusk by the time they reached the village. Freddie was surprised by its size - a few dozen houses that could scarcely be called a settlement. Some of the people looked curiously at his unusual dress and Kashmira's injuries, but most were busy with the tasks of rural life among the peasantry. John asked a farmer directions to the healer's place of work, and was pointed towards a building no different from the others save for a sign explaining, in surprisingly elegant handwriting, the nature of its occupant. He tethered the pony nearby, and they helped Kashmira inside.

* * *

The healer was a blond, blue-eyed young elf, although his long hair made it difficult to notice the latter fact. He greeted them with a very un-elvish mischievous smile.

"Come on in! I'm Roger, the tailor's son, also healer for this little town. And how did such a charming young lady get herself injured like this?"

"Roger!" An exasperated voice from the room's corner brought Freddie's attention to a tall, pale elf sitting casually on a bench and watching. The tips of his elven ears were just visible through the mass of dark curls touching the collar of his black robes dotted with golden stars, and his kind, intelligent hazel eyes bore a humourously resigned expression.

Roger turned to him in simulated innocence. "Just making conversation!"

"Of course you were. Now can you get back to helping these people, _courteously_?"

"For your information," Roger retorted, "it was my _father_ who abandoned me at age seven. I don't need two mums." However, he returned to Kashmira.

"Help me get her onto the settee, all right? Now," he asked Freddie when that was done, "seriously, what happened?"

"We were attacked by bandits," Freddie lied. He had had plenty of time to think of a cover story on the way there.

"Bandits?" The taller elf asked interestedly. Freddie noticed that his build was extremely slender and delicate even for an elf, to a degree that would have seemed unhealthy for a human. "They took everything you had, then? It's hardly usual for bandits to attack people with no belongings. But if so, then they would either have released you unharmed or killed everyone - you could hardly have escaped with this serious an injury. If you defeated them, then you'd surely have taken back what they stole. On the whole, whoever attacked you sounds much less like bandits and much more like assassins. Now, I'm not trying to pry into your private business," he added quickly at the sight of Freddie's bewilderment, "but if you have a secret you might want to think of a better cover story."

"Why someone so brilliant chooses to spend his time with me, Brian, I will never understand." Roger put in while beginning to examine Kashmira. "Still, now that we've established they're lying to us, why don't you take them to rest somewhere? This could take a while."

Brian rose with the elegance of a doe, and approached Freddie and John.

"Come. It's not far."

The king and the hunter followed him, walking somewhat nervously along the dirt-paved streets. John was perhaps surprisingly the more nervous of the two, despite his outward calmness wondering constantly if he truly had done the right thing. True, he felt a deep loyalty towards his king and outrage towards the deceiver and traitor, but he knew that Freddie's warning was not empty. Sooner or later, he would have to face the consequences of siding against Paul, and if something were to happen to him he also knew that few people would have the means or desire to care for his large and youthful family. The thought of his beloved wife and children left to starve, or perhaps worse, to risk their lives for food in the hunting and foraging that had been his business, frightened him more then his own possible death - not, that was, that he had any desire to die.

 _Afraid of doing the right thing, John?_ His father's well-remembered voice came to mind, forcing him to admit that, in a way, he was. Afraid that the right thing for Rhye and its king might well be the wrong one for himself and, more importantly, the people he cared about. If only there was a way to see the future... Some powerful sorcerers, he knew, had a limited gift of prophecy. Now that he thought of it, the strange, delicate elf leading them with his robes and air of elegant, controlled power could well have been one. Certainly he seemed oddly out of place in this naive, rustic town.

Brian must have noticed the attention, for he stopped and turned back towards them.

"Are you all right? Should I slow down? I'm sorry, I forgot that you must be exhausted."

"No," Freddie began, "I'm fine-"

"You're not fine," Brian interrupted forcefully, but with infinite grace. "Whatever you've gone through that hurt your sister, it was clearly a harrowing experience for you both. Although I'd hazard a guess that your halfling friend wasn't there for the thick of it. After Roger's done caring for the lady - lords, that sounded bad. I think his sense of humour's rubbing off on me - perhaps I'd better ask him to see to you as well."

"You seem very close," Freddie ventured. "Have you known each other long?"

"He's the brother I never had," Brian said seriously, and then, to Freddie's surprise, laughed. "Complete with being absolutely infuriating half the time. We were raised together."

"Oh?"

"Roger's not a full elf," Brian continued to explain. "His human father decided he'd much rather spend his life with someone of his own race. Unfortunately, he only realised this after marrying an elven woman and giving her two children. He vanished one day, leaving Roger's mother and her children with nowhere to turn-" John repressed an exclamation of disgust at this last - "my parents took them in, and we've been inseparable almost from that day."

As he ended, they reached a small, unassuming-looking house. Brian unlocked the door and entered it, the other two hesitantly following. A young human-looking woman greeted them. It was clear who she was a relation of, her flowing blonde hair leaving little doubt. Brian turned to her in a friendly, casual manner.

"Clare, can you tell my mother we have some guests? Roger's treating their sister, and they need a place to stay."

The woman - Roger's sister, Freddie assumed - responded with the same mischievous smile he'd seen on her brother. "You left Rog alone with a woman? Are you sure that's wise?"

"Not by choice," Brian conceded. "Hopefully it won't turn out to be too big a mistake. Come on in, you two. It's fine, you're not imposing on anyone."

Freddie and John followed him inside, not without some hesitation, to a small but comfortable-looking living room. They sat down on a couch, and Clare left towards a side room.

"So," Brian began once she had gone, "It seems like you have some pretty big secrets to cover. Again' I know it's hardly my business, but it would be quite nice to at least have names. Assumed ones are fine, if necessary."

"I'm Freddie," Freddie began after once again reminding himself of the change. "My sister's Kashmira. Does that make it easier for you?"

"Oh, definitely," Brian affirmed. "And you?" He continued, turning to John.

"Me?" Again, John seemed surprised by the attention. "John. Sometimes Deacy, because that's where I come from and the name happens to be quite common."

"Well, it definitely suits you. As for me," Brian continued, "You've probably already deduced thar my name's Brian. Specifically, Brian May, because I come from the elven clan of May - not that it really exists anymore, sadly. Humans forced a lot of elves to settle down hundreds of years ago, and most of them became assimilated into human society and lost their elven traditions."

Freddie felt a pang of guilt at the words, although what was known as the "Elven Taming" had been many kings before him. He had never thought or cared to know much beyond what was brought to his attention; partly, he now realised, because Paul had intentionally isolated him from the common people and their problems. If he ever became king again... But that lay in a future he could hardly see as plausible.

Clare returned, setting some food and water on the table before them. Freddie was still reserved about their hosts, but John, perhaps strangely, felt that he could trust these strange elves and their motives. Adventure and intrigue were hardly things he was used to, and despite his willingness to help the royal siblings he still felt very much out of his depth. Even the people of the village were strange to him; if the boisterous, energetic Roger was confusing, Brian's delicate intelligence with its hints of such great passion for life underneath was tantalising in its mystery.  
John nervously searched for a way to break the silence once more.

"I'm... sorry about your clan, Brian. I never knew much about the history of the elves."

"You don't need to be," Brian said, but seemed touched by the sentiment. "It was long before our time. King Tarnis was the one responsible, over a hundred years ago."

"But if he began, surely the kings after him were complicit by doing nothing to remedy his mistakes?" Freddie suggested.

"And when have the kings ever taken interest in their people's welfare?" Brian contended. "Sitting up in that palace, caring and knowing about nothing but what affects them directly. And the elves aren't even proper citizens, so there's no reason to court their favour."

"They should be," Freddie said. "They only live here because of what the kings did, and they should have the right to be treated as proper citizens. It's the least Rhye owes them."

"You'll not find many humans who think so, I'm afraid. And good luck even getting the King's attention."

"Oh, I think the King might be more willing to listen than you think..." Freddie smiled. "At least, the former King. Has the news reached you yet? There's been a revolution. King Farrokh's closest advisor betrayed him and took the throne. Farrokh and the Princess ran to the woods, but I hardly think there's much hope for their return."

"And why not?" Brian asked. "Surely they must have some allies, and a means to contact them. A king is rarely powerless."

"Farrokh is young, and has long been ruled by bad advice. I fear it's too late to regain the people's trust."

"Oh, I'm afraid I can hardly agree with you there." Again that oddly playful smile, so dissonant with his serious manner. "If today's evidence is anything to go on, you should have nothing to worry about- Your Majesty."

Freddie tried to look calm, but failed. "What are you talking about?"

"I've had suspicions for a while. Things too small to be worth mentioning. But that little speech you just gave? You talked as if you know the story personally. As if you felt responsible for... well, for something that only the King could bear responsibility for. And when you told me about the revolution, you spoke as if you'd been there. As if you had a personal hatred for the man who brought it about. So unless you're some very high-ranking noble who was exiled for his loyalty-" He stopped at the sight of Freddie's drawn dagger. His voice became more serious. "I thought I just said, you have nothing to worry about. At least, not from me. You're idealistic, perhaps - over-eager to do good and shake off the people's undeserved enmity - but at least you're in the right direction. And I'll take a naive, well-meaning king over a ruthless one any time. Rights and respect for the elves, after so many years? I'm the last person to oppose that. I'm on your side, if you'll take my help. Roger too, I'm certain, once he's appraised of the situation. What do you say, Your Majesty?"

"Well..." Freddie began. "I feel I should accept, if only because of how powerful you must be as an enemy. In the current circumstances, however, we can probably dispense with 'Your Majesty'. I'm going by Freddie now, and it would be easier to use that name all the time and not risk the wrong one slipping out at a bad time."

"Fair enough," Brian agreed, "and wise. There's only one thing I can't see. Where does John come in? The woman is obviously the princess."

"That's a bit of an explanation," Freddie said. "First of all, you were right - those were no bandits that attacked us. Paul sent assassins to find and kill me and Kashmira. John just... happened to be in the area, and intervene in time to save us. I'm not entirely sure why, really. If you're serious about helping us, you should know as well; any ally of ours is more than likely to be declared an enemy of the kingdom and incur all kinds of dangers. But you seem pretty intelligent, so you probably know the risks."

"Of course," Brian replied easily. "And I believe that, while great, they have to be taken. I can only make the decision for myself, of course, but there must be others who'd join you, given the chance and the facts. A hundred years ago, perhaps my entire clan would follow you, but now they're fractured and scattered across Rhye. Still, you should be able to count on support from those elves who are connected enough to their heritage and brave enough to act in its defence. Possibly halflings as well, although I don't know quite where they stand in relation to the humans of Rhye."

"Oh, we're not that badly off as things go," John said. "Halflings have always lived alongside humans, knowing how to go more or less unnoticed. They don't like us, but they don't mistreat us, other than the usual annoyances that nobody ever has the courage to protest against - calling us 'boy' or 'young man' even as adults, casual remarks about our size that don't feel worth challenging. I'm sure you probably have it worse. I do wonder, though; maybe this isn't a good question, but is it true that elves have..."

"Magic?" Brian asked. "In a way, yes. The May clan has always been connected to the stars. I can read the sky, channel its power if I want to. I don't often want to, because using magic just reminds humans that you're different. Elvish. I don't know what clan Roger's mother is from - probably she's not a full elf either, or one of those who were quickly lost inside human society. It was probably a healing one though, seeing as he does seem to be exceptionally good at it, whether or not he realises. If you're asking because you want a show, however, you should be aware I'm not exactly the fireworks type."

John laughed shyly. "I was just curious, really. There aren't too many elves where I come from, and I don't travel much. In fact, I'll probably return home after I'm done helping Their Majesties, as you two seem pretty capable and my family's waiting."

"Ah," Brian smiled. "I'll admit, I was hoping for somewhat more of a mystery."

"My apologies. I'm just an ordinary guy, mostly. You, however, do seem quite the mystery - if you don't mind me saying so."

"Well, yes. I guess the robe and dark humour do rather give that effect."

The sky began to redden outside, not from any sign of the apocalypse but simply due to the approach of sunset. Freddie could not keep back a yawn, the long day in the woods having taken its toll. Brian noticed this, and showed the travellers to guest quarters where the night passed uneventfully if not entirely calmly. Freddie kept waking in fear from dreams that the house was being attacked, while John's conscience was not entirely easy with respect to his wife and children - he had already been out longer than expected, and they could not know what had become of him.

Still, to a greater or lesser extent, they both slept.

* * *

In the morning, Freddie's first priority after the welcome, if hardly on his usual scale, routine of bathing and breakfast was quite naturally his sister's wellbeing. Roger met them cheerfully at the hospital's door, talking quickly as they entered.

"It's relatively serious, but she should recover in time with no permanent harm. No travelling for a few weeks, though. If you want to stay in town until then, I don't know how long we can have you but there are people who can probably be persuaded to put you up - although you don't seem to have the money."

Money... Perhaps it was odd that the thought had not occurred to Freddie sooner, but his mind had been occupied by such a multitude of other, more pressing matters for the last two days that he had completely overlooked the vital question of finance. After all, now that he did consider it, they had fled the capital with almost nothing. Hunting could only get them so far with regard to food, and other basic amenities such as clothing or horses would have to be bought. Before he could think of a solution, John spoke.

"I have some money on me. Probably not enough to cover more than a night, however. And won't you also be wanting payment for your medical services?"

Roger smiled. "No need for the last part. I saw when you brought the lady in that she needed treatment more than I needed money. As for your accommodations, that could definitely be a problem. I could pay for a few nights, but we're also hardly that rich, and-"

"Or the accommodations might not be necessary," Brian joined the conversation. "Are you sure it's safe to stay in one place that long?"

"Why wouldn't... Oh. Of course you've figured out their secret. I don't suppose us mortals can get an explanation?"

Brian looked flustered. "It's hardly my secret to tell. The decision's up to Freddie."

"Of course it is. Sorry. Freddie, will you trust me with... whatever is it you're hiding? I'd understand if the answer's no; I don't exactly trust myself either."

Freddie considered the request. While logic told him to be cautious with such an important revelation, his instincts said that behind the playful demeanour and constant sparring, Roger was earnest in his concern and interest. Brian also seemed to trust him, and coming from someone so obviously intelligent that meant a great deal. It could, of course, have been some kind of trap setting them up for future betrayal, but in that case the damage had already been done. And besides, the task before him was huge. He wanted, needed, someone on his side. But he did need to be certain of his allies... He decided to consult with Kashmira first. After all, the decision would affect them both.

"Maybe," he answered finally. "I'll have to give it some consideration. Can you let me speak with my sister? Alone?"

"That's not even a question." Roger drew back, letting him enter the treatment room.

* * *

Kashmira seemed cheerful enough, despite the red-stained bandages and obvious pain she was in. She looked to her brother with a smile. He returned it, although not without some of the tension in his mind showing through.

"So... how are you? Being treated all right?"

"Oh, yes. Roger's quite the gentleman." She changed her position to see him more comfortably, a momentary grimace crossing her face as the movement disturbed her injured side. "He's been friendly, considerate, and, mostly at any rate, professional. If and when things get back to normal, perhaps we should give him a place as royal physician."

"Interesting idea," Freddie agreed, "but I actually wanted to ask you about something... kind of related, actually. This will probably take some explaining."

He acquainted her with the previous evening's events, and Brian's discovery of their true identities. She appeared less concerned than he'd expected, taking the information with relative calmness.

"I think we can trust him. Call it intuition, but if something wasn't right we'd likely know by now. And I agree that we need to start somewhere. If we stay alone because we're paranoid about everything and everyone, we're no more likely to get anywhere than if we choose the wrong allies and get killed."

The argument sounded reasonable, but Freddie still had his worries.

"And what if they _are_ the wrong people? I don't exactly have the best history in choosing my friends. If I did, this mess wouldn't have come about in the first place."

"On the other hand, though, you've been wrong before. You've got experience now, and maybe you'll be better at seeing the signs. It's not as if Brian's asking for power, or trying too hard to sound convincing. It seems like he's genuinely offering to help us and the kingdom. If you think that's not the case, though..."

"I don't know," Freddie admitted worriedly. "I don't know if I can trust my judgement, and I don't have anyone but you to ask for theirs. That is, of course I trust your judgement, but I'm not..." He sighed in frustration. "I'm not used to making these kinds of decisions alone. Maybe it's for the good that this has happened, because every step of the way I discover more reasons why I should never have become king in the first place. And it's not even as if there was a reason for me to be chosen. My father was king, and his father, and his, and so on for more hundreds of years than anyone cares to remember. Maybe it's only natural that things should change."

"Maybe. But however that may be, that change shouldn't leave Rhye in the hands of a man like Paul."

"And why not?" Freddie asked. "He planned to take the throne for years. He knows how to rule, and how to defend his rule. I don't seem to know anything except how to blindly follow what a persuasive voice tells me and let others pay for my mistakes. Those loyal to me took on an army so we could escape the palace and survive this far, you were injured when I wouldn't surrender in the forest... And that brings me to another point. If we accept these people's help... Well, John's got a family. All three surely don't deserve to be dragged into this. How can I ask them to risk their lives for me when I'm not even certain of myself? For all I know, I'd lead every single one of my allies to their deaths and gain nothing. It's not an experiment I'm keen to make."

"You're not asking them for anything," Kashmira countered. "They've all offered their help freely, and because they believe you're in the right. Surely that trust should mean something to you?"

"Trust from people who don't know me. People who haven't seen any of my actions as king. All they have to go on is a title and their own intuition."

"And yet intuition can be a powerful thing. If they trust us and we trust them, I don't see a reason why we shouldn't at least have a chance."

"I can, and several. Ultimately, whatever comes of this alliance would be my responsibility. We've seen how I am with responsibility."

"Farrokh..." Kashmira subconsciously slipped into his regnal name. "If we're already talking about trust... Why don't you try trusting me?"

* * *

"There's a conversation we ought to have."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brian's outfit here is based on the It's A Hard Life music video, in case it's not obvious.


	4. Why Do I Follow You And Where Do You Go

Several explanations later, Roger's eyes surveyed the siblings with an unnerving intentness. His former energy was far from gone, but it was clear that he was giving them serious attention.

"I don't know whether to hope this is a joke or start fighting for you this instant. News of the coup arrived last night, so if this is all just Brian trying to get me back for all the tricks I've pulled on him there would have to be a lot of people in on it. In all honesty, though, you don't look that royal aside from your clothing. Then again, I guess that would work to your advantage if you're on the run."

"It would," Freddie concurred thoughtfully. "Assuming for a moment that I am who I say I am, can I trust you to be on my side? Brian seems to think so, but I have to know for certain. I'm sure you understand the reason."

"If you really are the king of Rhye? I'll do whatever I can to get you back on the throne. People don't have much good to say about your replacement."

"Really? You're just agreeing? No reservations, no questions, no argument? That's... hardly the answer I was expecting."

"Well," Brian put in with a smile, "Roger never does what people are expecting. It's a kind of habit with him."

"Yes, it's a good deal more fun that way. But you wanted to know why I'm helping you, Your Majesty? I don't really know, actually. You seem like the right people to help, and if Brian likes you I'm not the one to contradict him - at least, not on this occasion. I'm generally quite good at contradicting people."

"Really?" Brian asked with raised eyebrow. "I might have to contradict you there-"

"Oh, please. You're the smart one, you should have known that joke wouldn't work."

" _Anyway_ ," Freddie interceded rather awkwardly, "we have some rather important things to discuss if you're certain about joining us."

Brian gave a thoughtful nod of agreement. "Shall we get to them, then?"

"Well..." Freddie tried to find a good beginning. "First of all, I suppose you're probably aware of this but it bears repeating. If you're found associating with me, and caught, you'll probably be declared traitors and executed at the very least. I don't know if I can lead you into that risk, no matter how devoted to my cause you might be."

"What exactly might be worse than being executed as a traitor?" Roger asked. Brian favoured him with a scathing glance.

"Being tortured first?"

"Oh. That would do it."

A thought, or perhaps a memory, suddenly occurred to Freddie, and he had to force his mind back to the conversation.

Since the shock and revelation of his advisor's betrayal, he had begun to look back on his decision and actions almost from the day he had been crowned. Learning to see the true intentions behind every 'well-meaning' remark, every gentle push towards an outcome that would slightly tilt the balance against him. One thing he now realised, and perhaps the most painful, was how many people had been killed for worse than nothing.

Paul had always encouraged him to be ruthless towards any crime or misdeed, suggesting the highest penalties for everything from theft to high treason. Ironic, perhaps, how under that logic he himself would deserve death. But Freddie had given in, more often than not, and he could not hope to count how many casualties had fallen to his blind obedience. Small wonder the people had turned against him. So many dead, because of one man's greed and another's weakness...

But at that moment, there were more immediate concerns than the mistakes he could never remedy. And there was little time.

"What next?" John asked, either oblivious to his king's mental turmoil or kind enough to pass over it. Freddie picked up his broken thought process, trying to recall the answer.

"If news of what happened already reached the village, it's probably best I don't stay here long. The problem with that, of course, is that Kashmira can't travel in her condition and I can't exactly leave her alone either."

"That... could be a problem," Brian admitted. "There's a possibility I can think of, if you're willing to risk it. I understand if you're not, considering the situation."

"Well, let's hear it before I make any decisions of that sort," Freddie prompted.

"All right, that's probably a fair plan. I was thinking that Rog and I could accompany you to wherever you decide to go, while your sister can stay with our families and perhaps organise support locally; it would, of course, require that you trust us and our families enough to do so, which is out of my control for obvious reasons. I'm not saying that this is the only plan or even that it's the best one, but I do think that it's worth a try if you're willing to try it."

Freddie contemplated the proposal. It seemed to ask a lot, trusting people he hardly knew with his sister's life. Something, however, told him that the offer was sincere. He looked to Kashmira for advice, as the decision was, after all, one that would mostly affect her rather than himself. She responded with a silent glance of approval before speaking.

"It's a risky proposition, definitely. But probably safest in the long run - even if something were to happen to me here, you'd be somewhere hopefully safer and without having to worry about my being injured. If something happened to you, well..." A momentary pause was the only indication that she was disturbed by the possibility. "Let's hope nothing does, but separating would still give a better chance of at least one of us surviving to fight. If nothing else, it's practical."

"Practical..." Using the word about one of them possibly dying felt wrong, so wrong. But Freddie had to agree. "That's true, I suppose. We might not be able to... keep everyone alive, and it makes sense to plan for the contingency. I'm uneasy about the separation, though." 

For a short time, the span of a few sentences, he forgot the strangers present and the urgent conversation. His sister's life could very well depend on making the right decision, and it seemed more responsibility that he had ever faced as king. He spoke without thinking.

"I'm uneasy about everything. This entire situation is absurd, and I don't like any of it. If only I could go back to the first time I ever saw that scoundrel and throw him in prison for the rest of his life... But I shouldn't be thinking about the past when there's already enough trouble in the present. Of course I know that risks have to be taken, but I can't with good conscience let other people take them. I know, it doesn't make sense. A king's job is to decide what risks other people should take while he sits back in near-total safety. But then, I was never really much of a king."

"Why would you say that?" Brian asked. "Granted, I didn't pay you that much attention when you were in charge, and I suppose you weren't actually 'in charge' for much of that time, but from what you've told us this man has had control over you since your childhood. It's understandable that when you assumed the throne things would be no different, although I do wonder at your parents for not intervening... Or were they taken in as well?"

Freddie nodded. "Most people were. He's quite the charmer, perhaps unsurprisingly. I never had that charisma-" Kashmira opened her mouth to protest, but he continued speaking - "and I absolutely never had to take any conscious action towards the throne. I took it for granted, I suppose, and in doing so lost any awareness of what ruling actually entailed. I saw it as a game, deciding the lives and destinies of people without any true understanding of the consequences. Paul didn't make me a tyrant, I did that myself. He only... helped it along and took advantage."

"Really?" Roger asked. "And yet you're concerned for our welfare, when you could easily have simply accepted and used our help without a care. You took an interest in the condition of the elves, when it had had no importance to those before you for a hundred years. Those aren't the actions of a tyrant, or a detached, uncaring ruler. Now, maybe it's just an act to gain our sympathy. Maybe you don't really care about us, or about your people. But from what little I've seen, I think you give yourself far too little credit. You were the leader Rhye needed all along, and you can't blame yourself for having been led astray. If anything, you should learn from it. Not that I'm exactly the best person to give that advice, as Brian can tell you I'm renowned for not learning from mistakes."

Brian confirmed the statement with a smile, his curls shaking as he laughed. "He doesn't learn from anything, really. I don't know how he hasn't gotten himself killed a dozen times over by now."

"Obviously, it's my elven magic," Roger rejoined. "Not that I actually have any, as far as I can tell. That is, some people think I use magic in my healing, but I honestly don't know if that's true. For some, it means I'm the only healer they'll go to; for others, it means they won't go anywhere near me. Funny how life is."

Freddie was confused by the casual tone such a strong piece of information was delivered in, but perhaps humour was the easiest way to cope with such serious matters. It certainly seemed to be Roger's way, judging by their limited acquaintance. Time and time again, he was discovering what felt like an entirely new part of the world, and it was only the third day since the coup. If and when things returned to normal, he would have a lot to think about for the future of his reign. If he wanted to continue ruling, that was. It appeared increasingly likely that such a thing would be better left to those with more experience and intelligence.

"How well can you fight?" Brian asked suddenly. The question caught Freddie off guard, but it was far from unreasonable in light of the soldiers who were likely searching for him as they spoke. "You must have some skill, or you wouldn't have survived this far."

Freddie found himself toying with his dagger as he answered. "I've had training in swordplay as required for a member of the royal family, but little occasion to put it into practice until now. Kashmira has less training than I do, but she can hold her own. If we're lucky, though, maybe there won't be too much occasion for use of that training."

Roger took in the information, his expression unreadable. "I can use a sword. Not all that well, mind you, but I probably won't end up stabbing myself if I have to try."

"Because you'd end up stabbing me instead?" Brian prompted innocently.

"You read my mind."

"Sadly, that's not a kind of magic I'm able to perform. Actually, I'm not at all certain I _want_ to know what goes on in there most of the time."

"You may be right," Roger shrugged. "If we're already talking about magic and combat, how's yours? I've never seen you in action, but channeling the mighty power of the stars... That sounds pretty impressive, no?"

"As a matter of fact..." Brian began, "the truth is- Well, yes. It's very impressive. Probably even more than you're imagining, actually."

"Impressive as in it can help us?" Freddie asked hopefully.

"Star magic in general, absolutely. My particular magic... might be somewhat less powerful, seeing as I haven't exactly been using it for the past several years. Better late than never, though."

"Well, that's some good news at least," Kashmira said approvingly. "As for you, John, I don't think we need to ask what your capabilities are. That was rather high-quality archery back there."

John's nervous laugh returned, and he answered quietly.

"They didn't see me coming. I got lucky, that's all. I hunt to support my family, and I've never been any kind of soldier. I've never..." His voice dropped. "I've never killed before."

"Neither had I," Freddie admitted. Besides all the executions he had been far too wiling to agree to, but that felt different. Less personal. He had given orders, and known that they were carried out, but never been there. He had never wielded the blade, or given the blow. That did not make his past deeds any less wrong, but the subjective experience had been easier. Often, he had not even seen the faces of those doomed by his words.

"I'd say that hopefully you won't have to do it again," he continued, "but the chances of that seem virtually nonexistent at this time. I do hope that it'll happen as little as possible, though."

"So do I." John said emphatically.

The short exchange struck Roger with understanding of just what he was getting himself involved with. In the moment, it had seemed like a grand adventure; a heroic mission to reclaim the kingdom from a villainous usurper and restore the rightful king. Battle, certainly, but glorious battle in which the right side could not fail to be victorious. 

What had not occurred to him was the actual experience of fighting. Taking lives with no room for hesitation, and the knowledge that the enemy will take yours at the first chance. And he knew that he was not prepared. How many times had he even held a sword, let alone used one? Practice bouts, games. Wooden replicas with Clare when they were children. Perhaps he should not have been so quick to agree.

After all, what could they do? Raise an army? Defeat Paul and all his forces with five warriors? Any plan they could possibly follow was no more than a hazy dream, which seems perfect until the dreamer wakes and realises every reason why it can never come true. Him, Brian, and a timid halfling, alongside a powerless king. Was it truly too late to back out?

Yes.

It was terrifying to consider being the only thing 'protecting' Rhye, but Roger had little doubt from what Freddie had told him that some changes were likely in store if stability was not restored. The lot of the elves had never been easy, and in the upheaval that would undoubtedly follow the revolution they would be the first to suffer. People would blame them, irrationally but not unexpectedly, and there would follow everything that usually did in that situation - rioting against their homes, attacks in the streets, with nobody to turn to who had the means or desire to help.

Roger had never lived through such a time, but he knew the inevitable way it would come about. He could imagine the gradual increase of ordinary hostilities to an explosion, and whatever progress might exist towards peaceful coexistence set back by years. It was not a prospect that appealed to him, whatever the difficulties in preventing it.

Perhaps Freddie had not been the best king, and perhaps he was too young and inexperienced to rule properly. Perhaps the battle ahead would only get all of them killed and gain nothing. But it was a risk worth taking if there was a chance of helping all elves, across Rhye, in the case of victory.

"Well, then." He said quickly, before he could realise just how bad of an idea it was and change his mind. "We should leave quickly, they're probably already looking for you. It'd feel pretty stupid to come up with the perfect course of action and then get caught because we spent too long thinking about it."

"Typical Roger," Brian laughed. "Thinking takes too long, so let's not do it?"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it!" Roger protested, but they both knew no real offence had been meant or taken. "Would sundown give us enough time to prepare? Also, where are we even going?"

"Well..." Freddie had to admit that he had not thought that far ahead. "I think the most important thing is leaving Rhye before we try anything else. If we cross the Seven Seas to the Black Queen's land we should be safe from Paul's men, I doubt even he would risk invading there. Granted, I doubt she'd take kindly to our arrival either, but she has bigger concerns than a bunch of vagabonds arriving at her shores and we might even be able to negotiate for her help."

"The Black Queen?" John asked. "Wouldn't that be walking from one danger into a greater one? We've all heard the stories, how none can resist her power and how her army could destroy an empire if she had cause to march on it. I don't know -"

"Exactly. If I can get that army on our side, our victory is pretty much guaranteed. If not, at least we'll be out of Paul's reach and be able to move on and seek help elsewhere. And if I do fall victim to her magics, it can't be much worse than what awaits if we stay here. This way we have a chance."

"You think so?" Brian leaned back, arms crossed in his lap. "I'm more than willing to help you, you know that. But if you lead my best friend into the power of the world's most dangerous empire and get him killed, that will both not advance our cause and make me regret having made this decision."

"All right, then," Kashmira responded. "Do you have any other ideas? John's village is near the coast, so with any luck we'll be able to stop there, leave him with his family in safety, and restock our supplies, with no major delay in the journey. It's obviously risky, but risk is pretty much a given at this point. If we succeed, it'll have been worth the risk. If we fail, then as Freddie said, failure will have the same result wherever and however it happens. So, you get all the supplies you can, leave at sundown, and I'll work on the people's support back here. It's already nearing midday, so time isn't really something we can afford to waste."

"In that case..." Brian looked around the room, willing someone to make a suggestion. For once, he could think of nothing.

The uncertainty worried him deeply, and the haste with which they had to act still more. Surely there had to be some other way. A ruse that would both buy time and ensure their safety, or an obvious solution hiding under their noses? But the others seemed as clueless as him, and he was forced to admit defeat.

"I won't say that I hope you know what you're doing, because you've admitted yourself that you don't. But for all our sakes, I very much hope this works."

* * *

The rest of the plan had been outlined in as much detail as time permitted before it was put into action. John volunteered his pony for transport, at least until they reached his village and parted ways. The main priority was, of course, food, but money was set aside for the purchase of a small sailing vessel at some coastal town, in which Freddie, Brian, and Roger, would set out across the seas to attempt a meeting with the Black Queen.

Despite the Queen's fearsome reputation and his lack of maritime experience, Freddie was relieved at the prospect of leaving Rhye. One enemy, at least, would be behind them for a time. More concerning to him was abandoning Kashmira, and having no contact with her for what could easily be weeks or months.

"I'll be all right, I promise," she insisted multiple times with various phrasings. "Honestly, you're the one I'm worried about, going off across the seas with two civillian strangers. Yes, I know that this plan was as much my idea as yours. That doesn't mean I don't think it's incredibly dangerous, only that it's the best option any of us could come up with."

Freddie sighed. "I liked it better when you were being encouraging."

"Look, what I'm trying to say... You're going off into danger and I don't know when I'll see you again, so... Just keep yourself alive, all right?"

"I'll do my best. I can promise that at least."

And with that, he bid his sister farewell and joined the rest of the group in Brian's living room for the final departure.

John had arranged the provisions, years of hunting journeys, hungry children, and long winters having given him the skills to know what foods both sustained and lasted. The selection was not entirely the most appetising - salt beef, dried fruit, and flatbread, mostly - but it would last them a good several weeks with judicious rationing.

Roger had decided to prepare for the worst, taking a greatsword which his father had left behind and wearing a thin coat of mail under his clothes. The weapon felt strange in his hands, but the thought of wielding it in battle felt stranger.

Brian took no armour or weapons, his family owning none to speak of. However, his bearing suggested that he needed neither to be a formidable opponent.

As for Freddie, he had borrowed peasant's clothing from Roger in the hopes of appearing inconspicuous. A hooded cloak concealed both his face and the dagger sheathed at his belt.

The sun grew lower on the horizon, giving them the signal to leave.

* * *

Travelling by night had seemed a good idea, but to Freddie, unfamiliar with the area as he was, having to rely on the guidance of near-strangers added to his anxiety. Their progress was slow out of necessity and hiding in the forest every time someone came near on the off-chance of danger hindered the journey still further.

They continued for the whole night and the day after with little of note, forced to stop and camp when dusk came again. Freddie took the first watch himself, and Roger the second. It was not until John's watch that anything disturbed them, and then it was something none could ignore.

Freddie was woken by John's urgent whisper, their dim fire illuminating the archer's face.

"Someone's coming. Horses, and military by the sound. We need to get off the road."

Within seconds, all four were scrambling to find cover, but too late. Seven riders - a full scouting party - moved into position, surrounding them. Freddie vaguely recognised the leader, a senior officer in Rhye's cavalry but apparently not a loyal one.

John stepped forwards, smiling diplomatically.

"Captain Lian! Are you patrolling for bandits again? You should send a unit to the Capital Woods, I hear some groups are moving in there."

The captain's expression was unconvinced.

"John, of all the people I know, you are the one I would least have expected to turn traitor. Surrender Farrokh to us, and we will assume ignorance rather than treason."

"Farrokh?" Brian asked innocently. "I don't understand. That's a royal name. Surely you're not implying that a man of royal blood would travel on foot with two elves and a halfling?"

"Don't play coy with me." Lian drew his sword, and the other soldiers followed in a uniform, perfectly trained display.

Freddie looked around the dark forest, trying to see a way out. Four against seven was slightly better odds than his previous encounter, but he had no wish to fight needlessly. Lian followed his gaze.

"Trying to run, Your Former Majesty? We found you here, we can find you again. You would endanger these civilians to save your own life?"

Freddie's hand tightened on his dagger, but none of his companions spoke. Suddenly, a wild fear gripped him. Had he been wrong to trust the elves after all? Their faces told him nothing in the darkness, and he prepared for the worst. If he was going to die, he would fight until the last moment. The riders subtly closed in, making sure that there could be no escape...

And then, it was no longer dark.

A ray of blinding silver light flashed down, straight and clear as if someone had taken a lightning bolt and unbent it. The light arced smoothly into Brian's hand, glowing like some miniature star...

Of course, Freddie realised, a star! When Brian had told him of his clan's magic type, he could never have imagined the sheer power and majesty it contained. Standing in the darkness with his face and hair lit up by silver, the elf could have easily been a god or spirit of the night. The display appeared to have an impression on the soldiers as well, who gazed in shock as their horses reared back and shied away from this strange terror.

"Go." Brian's voice remained as gentle as ever, but the note of warning in it rang unmistakably clear. "Try to harm any of us, and you'll find this starlight can do a lot more than look pretty."

The soldiers made no answer; some of them were already scattering. As for the fugitives, they wasted no time in making their escape.


End file.
